


Steel for Humans, Silver for Monsters

by alexorish_waters



Category: The 100, The Witcher
Genre: AU - the witcher, F/F, F/M, Freeform, Mash-up, non-canon, of the 100 and the witcher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 18:47:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5259668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexorish_waters/pseuds/alexorish_waters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had once this idea of Lexa as a young witcher and Clarke as a pro-wizard. What will come out of this? Well, we will see!</p>
<p>I suck at summaries, so I'm sorry...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steel for Humans, Silver for Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> Main inspiration for battle scene -> This OST https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQS4o_bYA_M
> 
> What's "striga" - http://witcher.wikia.com/wiki/Striga

_Oy Lazare, Lazare_

_Tuka ni sa kazali_

  
  
  
  
  
The silver blade cut through the cold winter air soundless as her illuminated by the light of the white moon sword land with a low _thud_ right into striga's neck.

  
  
_Too shallow!_

 

  
The monster screamed, trashing around in pain and wielding clawed arms above its head. Echoes of despair and anger mixed with dangerous growls were the only sounds inside the old stones of a ruined cathedral. The witcher pulled her sword out from the fresh opened creature's flesh, causing the striga to scream louder in fury, and jumped back just as it begun to toss around its body, marking the bottom with red stains. She was impressed by the monster's strength. It was one of the biggest representative of its family she ever saw in her short life, and its size made her question, at the very beginning, if she should have been taking this job. 

  
**_Lift the curse or, if it's impossible, kill._**

  
Lifting the curse wasn't an easy task, though, but she needed money – and it was the only way she knew she can manage it. This or the second part. Both were good, if she could go sleep with a full stomach. 

  
Even wounded – strigas could still kill careless, unexperienced warriors without a problem, and Lexa knew that very well. She was also aware about the limited number of moves she could use inside and the power strigas get, if they are around their sarcophagus. It was time to change the background.

 

As the creature was still tossing in its numbing pain, Lexa run quickly outside the ruins and stopped just a few meters before an rusted gate, which led to the village she stopped by. The brunette pulled out from her black leather belt a red potion and opened it with teeth, holding a cork between parted lips. Tawny Owl. Just a few sips and her endurance will increase for a few moments like never before and, hopefully, helps end her this battle sooner and without any harms.  
She spat the cork onto the white, covered in snow, ground and as it reached the bottom and Lexa was about to take the first sip, the cathedral monster stormed out from the old building, making its way toward the witcher. The girl raised her silver sword, trying not to lose the creature from the eyesight, and quickly drank the bitter potion at once. She threw away now an empty glass to the side and prepared herself for the attack, which came faster than she thought.

 

_Too sure!_

 

Everything lasted just for fifteen seconds.

  
  
One, two, three, for, five...

  
The beast pounced with its sharp claws and wide open mouth and Lexa spun to the right to cut with the edge of blade striga's left upper-arm. From the side it looked like it only touched the white-grey skin but the monster felt the power of silver. 

  
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten...

  
She felt light and invincible. Maybe it was the effect of the Tawny Owl, maybe her pride or the adrenaline her body has been producing whenever Lexa fought... An old man told her once that she was looking, as if she was dancing with monsters and not fighting them, and the witcher couldn't deny his words. It truly felt like a dance. A murderous, yet beautiful, performance.   
  
Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen...  
  
Lexa did a few more spins and when she was behind the striga, she jumped onto its back, fiercely pulled at the black, long hair and with a loud roar swung her sword, killing the beast. Screams went quiet. Red snow muffled the impact of the landing, headless creature. Lexa stepped down from the corpse, cowered from the bottom to the top in its body fluids. Breathing heavily, she stepped to the side, shoved the dirty sword into the sheath on her back and looked at the trophy she held in hand. The witcher lifted by the black, sticky hair a pretty disgusting, trickling head of striga and examined it carefully in the weak moonlight. 

  
“You are no longer cursed...” she said quietly and closed crimson eyes of the monster with her free hand, marking with the blood on her fingers its big, rough forehead with a snowflake symbol, before she hung the head on a dandling hook on the side of Lexa's belt.  
  


After that, she came closer to the rest of the giant body and looked for a weak point on its chest. The soft spot was right under the fifth rib on the left side. Lexa pulled out a dagger from her shoe and she cut slowly the rib cage open. It took her a few longer minutes to get what she wanted – striga's heart. An ingredient she could use to make a new potion or sell it on the black market for a few jewels from wizards, alchemists or collectors. Hard times came like an unexpected storm and everyone, even witchers, where struggling with the economic ups and downs.  
  
  
It was noon as she came back to Azgeda.

  
“You look really tired. I can help you relax, how does that sound?”

  
“Hey, miss! Are you sure that sword isn't too big for you? Maybe I can make another one for you?”

  
“Shit! Witchers! The worst! Worser than damn ghuls, at least these creatures don't fool people for money!”

 

“Mommy, who is that woman?”

“Don't point to her, Thea!”

“But why, mommy?”

“She isn't a human!”

  
That's what you get for saving a village from monsters, Lexa thought, walking through the small streets, while every single person has been watching her. The witchers were known as mutants, unnatural creatures, monsters like werewolves, vampires, ghuls, striges, mantricoras, and more, but people have been tolerated them because a good monster could kill all the bad monsters for some funny prices. For humans they weren't normal and it didn't matter that once they were like them – without great agility, abnormal endurance, amazing strength and cat's eyes. Some of the witchers, in name of the mutations, were the lucky possessors of white hairs. Yet, the main point wasn't about the colors of eyes, hairs or abilities. Every witcher was sterile. They were born unnatural, through experiments and various tests. That's the main reason why people hate them so much and why they think about them as monsters. Previously, Lexa couldn't believe how shallow humans could be but in a really short time she stopped to care. As long, as they had a job for her, it wasn't necessary for her to be in good relationships with them.  
  


She found herself in front of a tavern called “The Butchered Rabbit”, name suggesting all her worries about it. The smell of urine, alcohol and dirty men was all around this place, just like yesterday night when she leaved for mission. Her presence wasn't something interesting, after all, it was a third day since she stopped her trip in this place and everyone already knew who was the Commander - the youngest witcher alive. Another monster. A good monster. Because she will kill a bad monster and go away. Because she is a good monster. A good monster. Good. Monster. Like always.   
Lexa entered “The Butchered Rabbit”, taking off her gloves and long scarf from head. Even if she didn't like it, she had to say that the warm from the fireplace was one of the best feelings after a long night. Local bards were playing a lively song about another, long dead witcher called Geralt of Rivia and his stories, on lutes and pipes, while people danced and laughed loud around them. She went straight to the bar, where she asked the innkeeper about her client.

  
“He?” he repeated, pouring beer into glass. “He left yesterday, saying some shit about how you wouldn't make it alive.” said the innkeeper, watching carefully at the dandling from Lexa's hook head of a striga. He smiled widely and passed the beer to a hooded client. “But you made it!”

  
“Where's he?” she asked, feeling the anger filling her inside but her face remained stoic.

  
“I don't know.” he shrugged. “He said something about Polis.”

  
“Damn!” Lexa hit the wooden counter with her fist. “That rat! I knew I shouldn't trust him!”

  
“Well, it's not like you can read in other people's minds. After all, you are not a wizard or a human, right?” said a firm yet highly feminine and a little raspy voice.  
  


The witcher watched in confusion at the hooded person, who interrupted her. 

  
“Who are you, woman?” she asked firmly with some disgust in her voice.

  
“Woman?” the stranger repeated and chuckled mockingly, before she turned around. “At least you aren't that stupid to mistake my sex, like you mistook the honesty of that running rat of yours, Commander.”

  
The woman pulled down her gray fur hood and smirked at Lexa. Her wavy, blond hair looked like they were made of gold and silk as they spilled out from the coat, her eyes blue like the bluest sky the witcher ever saw in her life but everything was nothing in comparing to that smirk she put on her face. A beautiful, yet dangerous woman.   
  


“I repeat, who are you?”  
  


“I am, who I am. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  
Lexa clenched her jaw and raised her chin. It wasn't more than ten minutes since she arrived and she wanted already to leave. But her legs were so tired...  
  


“I'll go upstairs. Don't wake me up till evening or I'll slice your throat.” she said to the innkeeper, who was looking confused just by watching the interaction between the two women.

  
“Oh, she won't! She's too good to kill innocent people!” announced the blonde with a grin.

  
“Bring me also hot water...” she added, before walking, watching with anger at the proud woman, who was clearly nothing more than trouble.

  
So she went upstairs to her room.

 

It didn't take her long to take of the coat, heavy shoes and scarf. Her silver sword, hidden in a beautiful, dark brown sheath was lying now on a small desk, just like the dagger, under a window overlooking the main street. She hung up the hook with striga's head in another corner on a big nail, hopping, that maybe it's still worth some money. But that's a matter for later. Maybe for another day. Right now she needed a hot bath and a few hours of deep sleep.   
As she began to undo the buttons of her plain shirt, someone knocked at her door. 

  
“Hot water!”

  
Finally, she thought, coming to the doors and reaching with her hand the door handle. Suddenly, her necklace started to vibrate. She looked down at it, furrowing her brows. It was a form of alarm, whenever strange source of magic appeared nearby.  
Lexa let go the door handle and stepped back till she reached the desk. Quickly she took the dagger.

  
“One moment!” she said, making her way back to the door with weapon hidden behind her.

  
The witcher waited a few more seconds and then she pushed at the handle, pulling the doors slowly closer to herself, ready to use the dagger. 

  
Just much as she didn't wanted to admit, she was really surprised at the sight in front of her.

  
“You really think that this little nail's gonna do anything, Commander?” asked sheepishly the blonde woman. “Will you let me in?”

  
“What in the hell do you want?” Lexa hissed, clearly pissed off.

  
“Talk with you, genius. What were you thinking?” 

  
“Well, then you can go, because I don't want to. Goodbye.” the brunette was about to close the doors, when the stranger tackled it, closing the distance between them. She looked seriously into Lexa's cat-eyesand the witcher stopped trying throwing out the blonde.

  
“I'm serious. I want to talk with you. I can help you sell the striga's head, if you do me a favor.”  
  


“What the hell?” Lexa pushed back, this time seriously convinced to close these damn doors and get rid off this woman.  
  


The blonde wasn't about to give up so she struggled with the brunette.  
  


“Firstly, let me inside. Secondly, I'm Clarke Griffin and I'm a wizard. Thirdly, maybe you'll be so nice and put that dagger away and button up your shirt, though, I don't complain the view...”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this story! English isn't my first language and this thing isn't beated so any advices in comments are really welcome, guys! Help me make this story more enjoyable! ;)
> 
>  
> 
> \- A.


End file.
